Friday, November 30, 2007

NaBloPoMo 30: 16 Pounds; What Do You Get?

OK, I found the little card they fill out every time I get weighed at Weight Watchers, and the official, not-making-it-up-in-my-head number is 176.8.

This depresses me a little. I was so thrilled to get under 175. (OK, all you thin people can roll your eyes. You don't know what I'm talking about until you've been fatter than a whale omelet, 'K?)

But hey! It's OK, because may I remind you (on this, the last stop on our mutual NaBloPoMo journey) that achieving fitness is a process? And that I can get below 175 again? Probably by next week? (Or maybe the week after.)

To prove it, let me remind you of where I've gotten so far:

1. If you ever meet me IRL and admire my engagement or wedding rings, feel free to ask to try them on. They will actually come off my fingers now. A few months ago, this was not the case.

2. I went to the gym this morning. I had a ton of appointments, so I could only work out for 35 minutes. Not only did I jog/run/move my ass on the treadmill for 35 minutes, some of that time was going 5.5 miles an hour. And I was listening to an audiobook at the time. Not the "Workout" playlist that only a couple of months ago, I relied on to keep my ass moving. (This is the one with Madonna's "Express Yourself," George Michael's "I Want Your Sex," The Rolling Stones "Bitch," The Who's "Baba O'Reilly" and a heaping helping of other proofs that I am middle-aged and out of it.)

3. A friend of mine treated me to lunch at the Zodiac Room at Neiman Marcus today. I totally ignored the popovers and strawberry butter. Also, I ate salad for lunch and drank Diet Pepsi. And did not have dessert. And didn't mind at all.

4. My size 16 blue jeans, the ones I bought at the Brooks Brothers outlet in Kittery, are in a bag to bring to the thrift shop.

5. The new bras I bought to kick off the whole diet process are starting to get loose.

6. So are the size 14 jeans I bought at Target.

7. My mother thinks I look terrific. So does my mother-in-law. So does my husband.

8. A ton of old clothes that were too tight now fit.

9. My husband is getting a lot more grabby.

10. I actually believe I can do this. Not just lose another 30 pounds--take part in that sprint Triathlon I signed up for.

And so, with NaBloPoMo finally over, the sun setting in the west, and a Friday evening glass of wine calling my name, I leave you this, from Fussypants:


  1. You rock AND you helped motivate me to get off my fat ass and sign up for Weight Watchers, so gracias amiga.

    Have a good weekend.

  2. Congrats!
    I weighed 170 when I got married nearly 15 years ago. I am afraid I will never be that small again.
    It is very hard work and you should be proud of yourself!

  3. Hooray for getting skinny and getting through NaBlo-PopMo or whatever it's called!

  4. I'm proud to know you.

    (oh, and, I'm going to start running around next to you with a little tray for when those rings slip off on their won't miss them.)

  5. You rock! I am very impressed.

  6. You're doing just great. But I've decided that, since it is next to impossible to figure it out in the first place, points you get from restaurants don't count. This is my new system.

  7. I used new jeans to keep track of my weight loss... back when I lost 65 pounds a few years ago. Every time I could squeeze into the next smaller size, I bought a pair. I went from wearing size 18s... to a 6. It was so cool. Now if I could just do it again...

  8. Sweet! My badge made it on Poppy's Blog- I'm famous now.

    Hey, we weigh the same, Hot Stuff.

  9. You went to the Zodiac room and didn't taste the popovers & strawberry butter? Heretic!

    Of course saying that I realize that my wedding rings are in the safe deposit box, the bands now stretched too thin to be sized up any further. Sigh...

  10. Congrats on the size 14's being loose!! That is AWESOME!
    Losing weight, while sucking incredibly, is so rewarding!!
    Congrats again!

  11. As a husband, I'm glad to see No. 9!


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.